


Flowers & Cream Puffs & Bad Jokes, Oh My!

by NinjaSpaz



Series: Twitter Fics and Drabbles [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Background IwaOi because duh, Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Matsuhana Fluff Week 2020, Mostly Canon Compliant, Soft Boys, Stargazing date, just bros bein bros, proposal, taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaSpaz/pseuds/NinjaSpaz
Summary: “I’m gone at work all day and you forget all about me? I’m hurt.”Issei is familiar with his antics and he doesn’t miss a beat. “Has it only been a day? I thought for sure I was finally free of your terrible jokes, but here we are.” The curve of his lips is soft, teasing, and there is no poison in the words he says.“Your life would be so boring without my fantastic sense of humor.”“It would certainly be quieter.”They stare at one another across the small kitchen, Issei’s dark eyes glittering in challenge. Hiro breaks first, laughing into his fist.~A collection of one-shots for MatsuHana Fluff Week 2020.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Series: Twitter Fics and Drabbles [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701859
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	1. Can I Call You "Mine?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Makki and Mattsun have an unspoken competition to come up with the most embarrassing pet names for one another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Pet names | "You are my new pillow"

Mattsun and Makki have a reputation at Seijoh. They’re well-liked and approachable even for being veritable giants in their school. Underclassmen know that despite their fearsome size and general proximity to Oikawa, they will always lend a helping hand or listening ear when asked. Individually, of course. If you can find them alone.

Together? They’re terrifying.

They feed off each other and build momentum, taunting and roasting their friends to within an inch of their lives. They trade barbs and insults like expert jugglers tossing sharp blades back and forth and they deal in rumors and gossip like hawkers on the black market.

There’s also the matter of the PDA. Most classmates are accustomed to it by now, the casual ways in which they always manage to find ways to have body parts in each other’s space. A foot on a chair. A hand resting on a back. A head on a shoulder. (“You’re my pillow now Mattsun, lemme take a nap.” “Don’t drool on me, loser.”)

To the casual observer, it would appear that there is something more there. To the volleyball players, it’s just how they’ve always been. They find comfort in being physically close to their teammates and if they carry that off the court with each other, well who’s to judge, really? So what if they call each other “babe” and “bro” and “sweetheart” with an overabundance of fondness? It doesn’t mean anything.

The thing is though, Hanamaki has always had a thing for pet names. Giving them, receiving them, he loves the versatility of words used to call those held dear. He thinks, perhaps, it stems from growing up with his grandmother who had a pet name for anyone and everyone. Pet names are just ingrained in his biology.

Which is why he doesn’t even think twice when during a particularly intense round of playful banter he calls Matsukawa “sugar.” He doesn’t understand his best friend’s startled reaction, a subtle widening of his eyes that likely went unnoticed by their teammates but to Makki was a siren call. And maybe their teammates didn’t notice the flustered expression on his face that was plain to Makki, but they did notice the flubbed spike that veered out of bounds after the utterance.

“Mattsun what the hell,” Oikawa scowls.

It had been a perfect set as usual and Matsukawa’s run up had been in perfect form up until Makki whistled and cried “Get it, sugar!”

Iwaizumi finds the whole thing hilarious. Makki had tried to get him earlier with “pumpkin” and succeeded only because Iwa laughed too hard to make his jump. Coach scolds them and sends a half-hearted warning look towards Hanamaki.

“Cut the shit. Got it!” he laughs, as he makes his approach. Oikawa sets it closer to the net than he likes, no doubt as a measure of petty vengeance, and he isn’t able to spike with as much power as he usually does. “Ok, I deserved that.”

Practice carries on without further interruption, but Makki can’t get Mattsun’s look of surprise out of his head. He keeps playing it over and over, trying to infer some meaning to the raised eyebrows, the stutter in his step as he leapt for his spike, the slight coloring in his ears.

He has to investigate.

Over the next few days, he starts changing up the pet names. He tries “sugar” again the next morning, but Mattsun is prepared for it this time. He fires back “darling” and Makki grins. He thinks he’ll like this new game.

He next catches Matsukawa off guard at lunch the third day after introducing “sugar” into their banter. They’re sharing a package of spicy chips that Makki bought as a joke when Mattsun’s face pinches from the spice and he puckers.

Hanamaki leans across the desk and smirks up at the sweating boy across from him. “What’s wrong hot lips? Too much heat for you?”

Mattsun starts coughing. Makki isn’t sure if it’s from the chips or the new pet name, but either way he hands his friend a bottle of water with a laugh. “You tryin to kill me, Hiro?” he asks, wiping the water from his lips with the back of his hand.

Makki almost flinches at the use of his given name. That wasn’t exactly new, but in the context of their new game, well, he’s grateful he can blame the blooming heat on his face on the chips. He doesn’t call Mattsun “hot lips” again, though, lest he starts thinking about them.

He likes food-themed pet names. He calls Mattsun Honey Bun. With almost no hesitation, Mattsun calls him Sweet Cakes right back. He calls him Cupcake. He gets called Sweet Pea.

They escalate to appearance-based names. Handsome. Gorgeous. Good Lookin’. Stud Muffin.

After about a week, their teammates are done. It comes to a head in the locker room after practice when Makki whips his towel at Mattsun with a purred “nice work today, tiger.” He preens in the soft glow of pink on the taller boy’s cheeks.

“Oh for the love of—!” Oikawa’s cry pierces through the bubble around them. “Will you two just kiss already and be done with it? This is painful.”

Iwaizumi stifles a chuckle behind his hand as Hanamaki’s face turns as red as Matsukawa’s. Not to be outdone or upstaged, Mattsun finds his voice and replies coolly, “Like you’re one to talk.”

Oikawa gapes at them, his own face turning brilliant shades of scarlet. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” He slams his locker shut and grabs his bag. “C’mon Iwa-chan, if we hurry we won’t miss the beginning of that UFO documentary!”

Iwa shakes his head, rolling his eyes with a soft sigh as he picks up his bag to follow the captain out. He gives the remaining pair a sympathetic wave.

“He is so whipped,” Mattsun chuckles under his breath as he finishes getting dressed.

“Like cream on pie,” Makki agrees, pulling a clean shirt over his head. When he emerges from the cotton, Mattsun is staring at him with an unreadable look in his eye. “What? Did I put I it on backwards?” He checks the front of his shirt to find that it is, in fact, the front.

“Oikawa’s not wrong,” he says.

Makki freezes. He looks up and finds Mattsun’s usually tempered gaze piercing through him. Suddenly he’s thinking about hot lips and pink ears and strong hands. He swallows. “He’s usually right,” he agrees. “But he can never know that.”

“Never.” Mattsun’s lips quirk up in that lazy way that Makki has always felt like home. He leans forward. “So? Can I kiss you, baby?”

Makki grins. “What are you waiting for, lover?” He grabs Mattsun by the back of his neck and pulls him into a clumsy kiss. As they laugh and try again, Makki thinks this was the best game they’ve ever played.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amazing and lovely Nicole made a beautiful [artwork](https://twitter.com/bb_owlet/status/1317934741404909569) of the ending. Please go give her all the love!


	2. You Don't Bring Me Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Makki is having a terrible date until a handsome stranger comes to his rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Flowers | "How about a kiss?"

“So then I told the guy ‘look buddy, I don’t care if your dad’s the prime minister, I’m not payin for a subpar paint job!’ The look on his face was priceless!”

Hanamaki forced a laugh through his teeth as his date regaled him with yet another shitty joke about some poor blue-collar worker he had scammed. He was beginning to see why the hot guitarist was somehow still single. “Was it really that bad?” he asked, taking a pointed sip of his soda.

“It was actually awesome,” the asshole cackled. “But you can’t let these people know that or they’ll wring you for every last cent.”

Makki hummed noncommittally. He couldn’t wait for this date to end so he could never speak to this punk again. Not that he had done much speaking. His date was proud enough to talk for both of them. He even ordered for Makki, insisting that the _tonkatsu_ was the best here. He let it go because he wasn’t paying, but the longer the dude talked about his financial scams, the more Makki wondered if he would be stuck footing the bill after all. What he wouldn’t give for an escape from this terrible date.

From the corner of his eye he caught his salvation in a flash of red. A bouquet of roses appeared at his side, silencing his dinner partner’s latest horrid tale. “Baby please, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been such a jerk to you.” The guitarist’s jaw dropped, rice spilling out of his mouth.

Makki blinked up at his tall, dark-haired savior. Thick eyebrows furrowed in a theatrical plea. The lip quiver fooled Makki’s date but he had a feeling this studly stranger was holding back a laugh.

“Excuse you, we are in the middle of a date,” the asshole cried. Once more, he had no problem talking for the both of them. “Get lost, eyebrows.”

Makki scowled at the man, and opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the newcomer. “He’s only here with you to get back at me.” The roses pressed closer, and Makki noticed a small slip of paper between this mystery man’s hand and the bouquet.

/Play along if you really are as miserable as you look. Tell me to get lost if you don’t need an out. -Matsukawa Issei/

Makki’s heart stuttered in his chest as he read the note. He didn’t even need to pretend to be shocked by the gesture, though he played up the theatrics as he pulled the bouquet to himself. “I thought you didn’t care, Mattsun.” The nickname came to him on the fly and he put as much tenderness into it as he could, the jilted lover being wooed by their partner’s newfound thoughtfulness.

For his part, Matsukawa’s lips pulled gently, a lazy smile and rosy flush that Makki very much thought he would like to see again after this date was well and truly canceled. “Of course I care.”

“You can’t be serious,” Makki’s date laughed disbelievingly across the table. “This is a fucking joke, right? This guy is your ex?”

Makki decided to spice up the drama. If Matsukawa was bold enough to intervene in a stranger’s date-gone-sour, he could play the role Makki assigned him. “Oh he’s not my ex. We never broke up.”

For once, his date was at a loss for words. Matsukawa sighed dramatically. “Makki, you can’t keep conning people for a pity meal whenever we fight, no matter how much I deserve it.” Makki hugged the roses closer to hide a sheepish smile that wasn’t entirely faked. This guy was good. Just how long had he been eavesdropping before he decided to come to Makki’s rescue? He pulled out his wallet and dropped several bills on the table. “I apologize for my troublesome boyfriend. Hopefully that should cover it.” He held his hand out to Makki and Makki didn’t even hesitate to grab it, letting Matsukawa pull him out of the restaurant with an arm around his shoulders.

“You’re a life saver,” Makki said under his breath. “Where did you learn to act like that?”

“Part of my natural charm,” Matsukawa grinned, at once sly and teasing.

“Cute.” Fleetingly, Makki wondered if he was just pulled from the viper’s nest only to fall into a fox den. “You often crash dates that are going poorly or was tonight just my lucky night?”

Matsukawa shrugged. “Saw a pretty boy with the foulest expression on his face and a date that didn’t give two shits about him. Figured he could use the flowers more than my date who didn’t bother to show.”

“You got stood up?” He glossed over the “pretty boy” part.

“Tragic, I know.”

“Seems like you still managed to get some fun out of it.”

“I love giving assholes what they deserve.”

“Kinky,” Makki said before he could stop himself. He would have been more embarrassed about his slip of the tongue (he had a bad habit of speaking without thinking when he was comfortable with people) but took it as a good sign when Matsukawa doubled over in laughter.

Makki pulled the bouquet to his face to hide his blush as he watched him, fascinated with the way Matsukawa’s hooded eyes crinkled with mirth and his hand hovered in front of his mouth to hide his toothy grin.

“So, how can I thank you for rescuing me tonight?” he asked when the other man recovered.

Matsukawa considered him for a second. Then that cheeky grin was back on his face. “How about a kiss for your knight in shining armor?” He laughed again at Makki’s look of startlement. Not that he was opposed, per se, but it still caught him off guard. “I’d settle for your number though. Be a shame to lose touch with my new boyfriend right after meeting him.”

“It would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” He extended his free hand for Matsukawa’s phone, keeping the roses close to his body with the other. He entered his contact info, saving himself as “Boyfriend <3” as a joke. He made to return the device to its owner, but yanked it back as Matsukawa reached for it. He closed the small gap between them and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek as he slid the phone into Matsukawa’s pocket. “Shall I expect more roses in the future?”

“I think next time I’ll bring you carnations. Or maybe red chrysanthemums.”

From his sly grin, Makki wondered if those flowers had some special significance. “So I should invest in some vases then.”

“You mean you don’t already have at least a dozen for all the flowers your other dates bring you?”

“My dates don’t bring me flowers,” he smirked. “My boyfriend does.”

Matsukawa nodded like that was the answer he expected all along. “Then I will make sure the next ones are in a vase.”

Makki’s face grew warm again as he waved goodbye to his mysterious savior. When he had put some distance between them, he pulled out his own phone to look up the flowers Matsukawa had mentioned.

Carnations for fascination and new love.

Chrysanthemums for passion.

He almost dropped his phone as it vibrated in his hand with an incoming message from an unknown number.

//So, boyfriend. When should I deliver a new batch of flowers?//

Makki laughed as he sent Matsukawa a time and place. He saved the number as “Mattsun <3” and sent a silent thanks to whoever had stood the man up. His date hadn’t turned out so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even in a world where they didn't grow up together, they still share a single braincell.


	3. The Sweetest Dream Is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Matsukawa comes to terms with the fact that maybe he thinks of Makki as more than just a friend after daydreaming of him during class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Dream | "I think I love you"

Matsukawa stands in the gym all alone.

Except, it’s not quite the gym, not really. There’s no roof, for one thing, and for another, the court isn’t made of wood, it’s definitely water. He’s standing on water. This should be odd, he thinks, but as quick as the thought comes to him, it evaporates. The court has always been made of water.

He still doesn’t know what he’s doing there by himself. Is he too early for practice? Too late? Where is everyone?

A splash draws his attention to the opposite side of the court. The water there is still, crystal smooth where he was certain he had seen someone else moving. He watches carefully as the surface remains calm.

The water doesn’t ripple as a tuft of pinkish hair pokes through, the face below it grinning mischievously under the surface. He sees Matsukawa staring intently at him and winks before disappearing once more below the court.

What game was this? It definitely isn’t volleyball. Matsukawa isn’t sure, but he finds he doesn’t care. He wants to play if it means he can be with Hanamaki.

He takes a step forward to cross the clear blue court, towards where Makki vanished. The movement breaks the spell and he falls, swallowed up by the ocean. He falls and falls.

He jolts upright as he lands in his desk.

The sun shines high through the windows. Some of his classmates give him curious glances. The teacher hardly pays him any mind, busy at the blackboard explaining the circumstances of a war between ancient rival civilizations. He wipes his mouth. He’d been out long enough to start drooling.

The bell signals the lunch hour. The rumble of his stomach is covered by the scraping of chairs as several of his classmates get up to meet their friends. He doesn’t have to wait long before Makki and Iwaizumi show up.

“No Oikawa today?” he asks, not really caring about the answer. His attention is on the bento Makki has brought him.

Iwa snorts. “He got caught by his fans.” He shovels an omelet in his mouth. “Let him starve.”

“He’s gonna be insufferable at practice if he doesn’t get to eat before then though,” Makki reminds him.

“He’s always insufferable,” Matsukawa retorts.

“True,” his friends say in unison. The trio break into snickers.

They’re halfway through their lunches by the time Oikawa makes it to Matsukawa’s classroom. “You guys started without me? Rude!”

“You’re the one who kept us waiting, Shittykawa. Be more courteous of your friends if you want us to eat with you.”

“Iwa-chan,” he whines.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki share a long-suffering glance as their captain and vice-captain descend into their usual bickering. It’s a familiar soundtrack as he eats his lunch. He hums pleasantly as he chews the cheesy beef. The sun is warm, and surrounded by his friends, he grows sleepy again.

Makki keeps him from falling asleep during lunch, poking him hard in the side when he sees his drowsy friend start to slip. “Don’t you go off to dreamland and leave me all alone with these idiots,” he hisses.

Matsukawa chuckles. “You could always come with me instead,” he says, the words slipping from his tongue before he has time to process them.

Makki, for better or worse, takes it in stride like he always does. “Mattsun, if you wanted me to sleep with you all you had to do was ask.” And then he winks again.

No, wait, not again. The first time was in a dream. Makki winked at him in the dream and now he’s winking at him in the waking world. Matsukawa struggles to separate the two.

He’s saved from having to respond by Oikawa making a disgusted noise. “Makki don’t be so crass.”

“Aw, is Captain jealous?”

Oikawa’s ears flame and he pointedly avoids looking at Iwaizumi for the remainder of the lunch period.

Matsukawa can’t get Makki’s grin out of his head.

He dozes off again during his afternoon classes. It’s not really his fault. English literature is so dry. He can’t be expected to pay attention. And besides which, his dreams are far more interesting.

This time he’s walking home, Hanamaki at his side. This wouldn’t come off as strange except that Makki’s hand is in his and they’re both naked. He tries to remember why, and comes to the conclusion that they’d left their clothes at school after practice.

Because of course they did. Why would they wear their clothes home when they had practice in the morning again? He lets his eyes wander over his best friend, only to be frustrated as they keep slipping off. He can’t focus on anything other than his face.

His own face heats up at that thought. Why would he want to look anywhere else? Makki grins like he can read all of Matsukawa’s secrets and Matsukawa pulls his hand away before he can comment on it.

He flinches in his seat again, back in class. The teacher is still droning on in English and Matsukawa buries his face in his hands. What the hell was wrong with him?

The final bell rings for the day and he makes his way to the clubroom to get ready for practice. He doesn’t really need to go over so early, but he wants the extra time to think. He can’t remember when he started to dream of Makki, but he knows these daydreams aren’t the first. They are the first to happen at school, though, and he’s gonna have to do something about that if he wants to be able to face his best friend during the school day.

The thing is, he likes the relationship they have. He likes the easy way they complete each other’s sentences, like their minds are connected and they just know what the other is thinking even before they think it. He likes the way Makki laughs at his terrible jokes and shoots back even worse ones. He likes the way Makki knows his favorite foods and favorite songs and favorite games. He likes the way Makki smiles after a successful spike, the way he cheers for Matsukawa after a successful block, the whole-hearted way he supports their younger teammates.

He likes Makki.

The thought doesn’t terrify him quite as much as he thinks it should. Realizing that your feelings for your best friend stretch beyond the bounds of general fondness and comradery would probably test the limits of any other friendship.

But it’s Makki. And he knows Makki. And Makki knows him. The only question he really has now, is which of them realized it first. Was that why Makki had teased him at lunch? Was that why he was suddenly invading Matsukawa’s daydreams? He wouldn’t put it past him, honestly.

Now he just has to figure out how to bring it up.

The rest of the team starts filing into the clubroom, so he resolves to do it after practice. If Makki senses what’s coming, he doesn’t say anything about it. They go through practice as normal, no changes to their usual banter or skinship. They’re in perfect sync with the rest of the team; nothing about his internal revelation disrupts the flow. If anything, it’s one of the better practices they’ve had in a while.

“Your blocks were on point today, Mattsun,” Oikawa teases him as they head home. “You must have gotten enough rest during class.”

“Slept like a baby,” he asserts. “Had a feeling you were gonna be a demon today and I would need it.”

“Oikawa? A demon? Never,” Makki sticks his tongue out at their captain, ducking behind Mattsun as Oikawa reaches out to grab him.

“Rude!”

Iwaizumi wrangles him back with a sigh.

Makki and Mattsun fall into an uncharacteristic silence after they part ways with their friends. After a few minutes, Makki stretches his arms over his head with a groan and gives Mattsun a side-eye. “So, wanna tell me what’s up with you today?”

Leave it to Makki to get to the heart of the matter. Because Makki knows him just as well as he knows Makki. “I think I love you.” It’s not momentous. The world doesn’t shift. There are no fireworks or fanfare. It’s just a fact.

A fact that Makki clearly knew by the way his grey eyes sparkle, his mouth spreads wide, and he says, “Duh.”

And just like in his daydream earlier, Makki holds his hand. He gives it a light squeeze. The feeling is mutual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These dorks just get™ one another.


	4. And The Stars, They Shine For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Makki has a shitty day and Mattsun does his best to cheer him up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Gifts | "Stargazing was a good idea"

There were few things, Issei knew, which Takahiro disliked: absent parents, the cold, being the center of attention, and his birthday. Given those first three items, the fourth came as no surprise. As the end of January approached, his mood noticeably soured.

It had taken both Mattsun and Iwaizumi to talk Oikawa down from throwing him a surprise party in their first year, though the setter still insisted on trying to gift his wing spiker a new set of pads. It was the only time they had ever seen Makki look so furious.

Oikawa did not press again after that.

It wasn’t that he hated birthdays in general. He loved parties and celebrating his friends. He loved finding the most elaborate and thoughtful gifts he could manage. Issei has no shortage of weird knick-knacks to prove it.

It’s just that, when it came to his own birthday, he just preferred to spend it like any other day. So, after that disastrous first year, that’s what they did. There were no happy birthday wishes or cakes or gifts. No extravagant parties with bright decorations. It was just another day of the week.

In some ways, that was its own gift, the not-saying and the not-giving. The cloud that would build up around him in the days before, wondering if this was the year they would break their traditions, try to surprise him, it would evaporate in the mundanity.

Unfortunately, not all of their classmates were as perceptive.

Issei doesn’t know why this year of all years everyone seems hell bent on celebrating Hiro’s birthday. Maybe it’s his growing popularity as a senior and starter for the volleyball team. Maybe it was the universe playing an elaborate, unfunny prank. The clouds gathered behind his eyes as he politely declined all gifts and well wishes. Issei did his best to intercept as many as he could, to quell that storm before it could erupt, but the winds were already blowing.

Hiro unleashed his fury on the court. Watari rubbed his forearms gingerly after practicing serve receives. “I don’t think he’s ever served with that much power before,” he muttered where he thought Makki wouldn’t hear him.

“He’s having a bad day,” Mattsun replies just as softly.

They watched from across the court as Makki wiped his face with a towel. “Well, maybe we should orchestrate another bad day for our next match,” Watari grinned.

Matsukawa shook his head with a sigh. “We don’t want to actually murder our poor opponents.”

“Speak for yourself,” Oikawa grumbled from behind them. “I’ve got a list.”

Practice resumed after a break, and they played a few matches amongst themselves, mixing up the teams each round to give a healthy balance of veterans and newbies. Whenever they found themselves on opposite sides of the net, Issei made a point to block Hiro whenever he could, to spare some poor first year from having his arms torn off. Of course, that just pissed him off further, and when they walked home afterwards, he refused to even look at Issei.

That just wouldn’t do.

The thing was, he didn’t know _what_ to do. Even on his worst days, Issei could always manage to pull a laugh out of Hiro. He’d been there through some of the bad birthdays, but this one was by far the worst.

He sighed and watched his breath swirl and rise in the chilly air, following it up toward the moonless sky. _Oh._ A plan began to form in his mind. Hiro was either going to hate him or love him for it. He hoped he hadn’t fallen so far from his friend’s graces for the former.

“Hey.” Makki stopped walking and turned back to glare at him. Issei managed not to flinch. “I forgot something at the store. I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”

Makki shrugged, lips still set in a remarkable scowl. “Whatever. I’ll probably just go to bed.”

Issei knew he wouldn’t, but he let him go anyway. He felt bad, letting his best friend go home to an empty house, but he wouldn’t be leaving him there for long. He made his purchases at the corner shop, went home to change (and pack) and returned to Hanamaki’s an hour later.

He didn’t care how cheesy it was, he threw a snowball at the darkened window of Hiro’s room. He readied a second one before he saw the desk lamp click on and a shadow move behind the curtain. The window opened with a groan from the cold.

“Mattsun, what the hell?”

“Come down here.”

“It is cold as balls. I am not going anywhere.”

_THWAP_

Makki blinked the snow out of his eyes as the second snowball splattered against the side of the window. Issei scooped up another handful of snow with a smirk.

“Matsukawa Issei if you throw one more snowball up here, I am ending this friendship.”

“You won’t.”

“I will.”

“Ok I won’t throw this one. But you should still come down.” Makki folded his arms across his chest and grumbled something inaudible. “Get your coat and boots. We’re going for a walk.”

“Why?” he cried. Matsukawa prepared to throw the third snowball. Just as he knew Makki wouldn’t disown him, Makki knew that when Mattsun wanted him to do something, he would play along. “Ugh. Fine.”

Issei dropped the snowball as the window shut and Makki disappeared into the house. A few minutes later he emerged, clad in his thickest winter coat, gloves, scarf, and the hat with the pom pom on top. “Happy now?”

“Delighted.” He reached for Hiro’s hand and grinned when Makki took it with only a moment’s hesitation.

He pulled him out through the gate and up the road. “Where are we going?” Hiro asked. The petulance was mostly gone from his voice, curiosity getting the better of him as Issei mysteriously lead him to parts unknown.

“You’ll see.”

Well, not unknown. Makki frowned at him when their path became familiar. “Mattsun. This is the way back to school.”

“I am relieved. You don’t need your vision checked.”

“Why are we going back to school?”

Issei squeezed Hiro’s hand. “Do you trust me?”

Hiro narrowed his eyes at him. Issei could almost see the thoughts sliding across his mind. It’s cold. It’s his birthday. He’s pissed. But Matsukawa is up to something and he has never led him wrong before. “Yes.”

They walk around behind the school to the athletic fields. It was pitch dark back there and Makki must have been feeling some ease because he cracked a joke for the first time all day. “If you were planning on taking advantage of me Mattsun, there was no one at my perfectly warm and cozy house.”

“Damn. And there goes the surprise for later.” Hiro chuckled and Issei felt much better about his plan as he slipped the backpack from his shoulders. Hiro eyed it suspiciously. “I thought you said you trust me?”

“I do, but you’re being very sus tonight Mattsun.”

Issei grinned as he pulled a thick blanket from the pack and unrolled it on the snow. “Look, you had a really shitty day. I just wanted to cheer you up.”

“By dragging me out of my very toasty bed to sit in the snow at school in the middle of the night?”

“It’s not even midnight, don’t be so dramatic.” He sat down on the blanket and patted the space next to him. Hiro shook his head as he took the proffered spot. Issei procured a second blanket and threw it over their legs.

Hiro hummed appreciatively, shifting closer to steal any of Issei’s warmth. He pressed his shoulder as close to Issei’s arm as he could get without hugging it to himself. “Now what?”

Issei pulled his arm from between them to wrap it around Hiro’s shoulder, holding him closer. He brought his hand under Makki’s jaw and tilted his head back, up to the sky. He was rewarded with a soft gasp.

The nice thing about late January, the air is so dry and cold, that on a cloudless night, the stars glitter and shimmer like fairy lights. They had a perfectly clear sky above, glittering and twinkling just for them.

Issei felt the remaining tension melt out of Hiro’s shoulders as his head dropped to Mattsun’s shoulder. They sat like that in silence for a while, content in each other’s warmth even when a biting breeze tried to get them to stir.

“You didn’t really have to go to the store,” Hiro whispered into the still air.

“Actually I did.” He dug around the pack once more and emerged with a small box. Makki frowned at it skeptically. “Thought we might want a snack while we sat here.”

Makki opened the box and chuckled with delight. “Creampuffs? For a midnight picnic?”

Issei shrugged. “If you don’t want em, I’ll eat em myself.”

Makki tugged the box close to his chest. “Hey I never said I wasn’t gonna eat them.”

They bickered over the sweet treats until they finished them. Makki fell back against him with a sigh. “Ok, I’ll admit it. Stargazing was a good idea.”

Issei wrapped his arms around Hiro’s waist, resting his chin on the other boy’s head. “Feel better?”

A nod. “Yeah.” He idly played with Matsukawa’s hands as they settled back into comfortable silence under the stars’ watchful gaze. After a while he whispered, “Thanks, Issei.”

“Happy birthday, Hiro.”

And for the first time, Makki didn’t even object.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mattsun is a good friend. (And a great boyfriend but shhh they haven't figured that out yet.)


	5. A Soft and Quiet Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mattsun admires his best friend in a quiet moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Watching the other sleep

Matsukawa blinked open bleary eyes to find the tv emitting a soft blue glow. The room was dark, the sun having set while the movie played to its conclusion, unwatched by the exhausted boys on the couch. The last thing he remembered, there was some chase along a freeway.

He stretched his arms over his head and yawned, glancing at his watch for the time. 10:42. He grimaced. Their study break had turned into a two-hour nap.

He turned to look at his study partner, his best friend, snoozing with his head on the other end of the couch. In the safety of the darkness, Mattsun allowed himself a small smile. Makki could sleep anywhere, but he always slept more deeply when he was with Matsukawa.

His legs were heavy on Mattsun’s lap, but the taller boy didn’t mind. His head was pillowed on his arms, his mouth slightly parted as his chest slowly rose and fell. His hair was getting long, his bangs falling further on his forehead than usual.

Mattsun fought back the urge to brush his fingers through them and wondered when that had become something he wanted to do. They’d never shied away from physical affection with one another, always touching and leaning and occupying the same spaces.

But there was something inherently more intimate attached to the thought of reaching through the dark to touch that sakura fringe, to cross that chasm from casual contact to tender caress. Idly, he wondered if Makki’s face was really as soft as it looked.

Soft wasn’t a word Mattsun really associated with Makki. He was tall and lean, his athletic frame not so different from Mattsun's own. His limbs were long and toned, his hands firm and calloused from years of spiking volleyballs. But the longer he spent watching him instead of waking him up, the more he noticed other things. The roundness of his cheeks. The slope of his nose. The familiar curve of his spine. He thought about Makki's hands, too, and knew how gentle they could be.

His own hands twitched on Makki’s calves, and he watched with fascination as those pretty lashes fluttered open. Makki squinted against the light of the tv and turned his head until he found Mattsun’s eyes on him. His lips turned up at the edges and he flashed a cocky grin. “See something you like?”

Mattsun held his gaze for a breath. Makki furrowed his brow in a small pout that made Mattsun smile, unashamed of the fondness he knew was evident in it. “Yeah.”

"Oh." For another breath, one that hitched in Makki's chest as his cheeks colored in the dimly lit room, Mattsun waited patiently. He watched as the other boy pulled on the sleeves of his hoodie to cover his mouth. 

_Cute,_ he thought. Aloud, he asked, "Is that okay?"

Makki nodded his head, burying his face in his sleeved hands. Honestly, how had he never noticed how soft his best friend could be? He strained to hear the words as Makki mumbled something into his hoodie. "Hmm?"

"I said," he emerged from behind his hands, face aflame in the glow of the DVD's loading screen, "it's more than okay. Because… I like you, too."

Mattsun nodded, as if he expected that answer all along. And maybe he did. After all, it was Makki. His best friend. His partner. Mattsun knew everything about him, even if it took a quiet moment of watching him sleep to understand the full depth of that knowing.

He lifted his arms, opening them and extending his hand towards Makki, reaching across that chasm, asking silent permission to join him on the other side. Makki took his hand and sat up, closing the gap and falling into his chest with a contented hum, a quiet sigh like returning home. He carded his fingers through Makki's hair and huffed a soft chuckle. "So do you still wanna stay over tonight?"

Makki pulled away from him with a frown. "Mattsun there is no way in hell I am going home now."

"Good." He pulled Makki's head back down to find out if his lips were just as soft as the rest of him.

They were. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love a shy, flustered Makki.


	6. Doctor, Doctor, Give me the News (I've got a bad case of loving you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mattsun gets a cold and Makki is the one dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Taking care of the other | "Can I borrow your sweater? It smells like you"

Matsukawa never got sick. It used to annoy Hanamaki because he was prone to seasonal colds no matter how well he took care of himself, but over the years he came to appreciate Mattsun’s impeccable immune system keeping him healthy whenever a bug swept through the team.

It was also particularly helpful when other people needed caring for. Mattsun could tend to his friends and teammates without having to fear coming down with whatever ailment they might be suffering. Makki was his most frequent patient, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the attention.

So, it was concerning when Mattsun missed the last practice of the year before the holidays. Everyone asked Makki where he was, what was wrong with him, was everything ok at home, but Makki didn’t even know. It also wasn’t like Mattsun to not answer his texts. ~~~~

He walked home alone for the first time in a long time. It felt wrong.

He texted Mattsun again.

//Ok dude, this is getting weird. I’m coming by to make sure you’re not dead.

Makki rang the doorbell once. Twice. Heart hammering in his chest at the lack of response, he kicked over the little frog figurine that hid the spare key and let himself in. “Mattsun?”

Still there was no answer. He dropped his bag in the entryway and slipped out of his shoes. Mattsun’s were there, which was a small relief. The house was dark and he fumbled his way up the hall to his best friend’s room.

He paused for a moment in the doorway to observe the person-shaped lump under the covers. In the dim light of the street lamp pouring through the window, he could make out the slow rise and fall of Mattsun’s chest. Not dead. That was a bigger relief.

His new concern was with how labored Mattsun’s breathing sounded. How long had he been asleep? Slowly, he crept to the edge of the bed and pressed the back of his hand to his friend’s forehead. Mattsun flinched awake at the sudden coolness against his feverish skin.

“Hiro?” he croaked.

Makki’s chest constricted at the sound of his name in that raspy voice. “I’m here,” he managed to say. “You had us worried.”

Mattsun sighed, rolling into Makki, heat radiating off him. “Sorry.”

“What happened to Ironman? Mr. I-don’t-get-sick?”

“Bug killed ‘im.”

“Shame. He will be missed.” Mattsun tried to chuckle but it turned into a coughing fit. “Have you taken anything today?” Makki asked.

Mattsun groaned. “Time is it?”

“6pm.”

“Ugh.” Mattsun moved to sit up but Makki’s hand on his chest was enough to keep him on the mattress. “I think mom came home during lunch and made me take something, but I don’t remember.”

“Ok, I’ll go get you some water at least.”

Makki went to the kitchen, familiar enough with the layout even in the dark as if it was his own. He could have turned on a light, but he didn’t feel the need to. He texted Matsukawa-san to see if Mattsun’s memory was right or if he’d dreamed it.

//I did manage to get him to take some medicine around 1. I had hoped to be home to make dinner but something came up.

Makki didn’t fault her. Running a company was time consuming, and she _had_ come home during her lunch hour to check on her son.

//I’ll get him some more and see if he’s up to eating after.

//Thank you Hiro-kun. Please let me know if you boys need anything. I will try to be home as soon as I can.

He smiled at the tenderness in her message. Even though she was often busy, she was a good mom. He promised to keep her updated and urged her not to worry. He had it handled. Idly he thought he should grab a mask if he was going to stick around taking care of Matsukawa for a while, but ultimately, he figured it was too late.

He returned to Mattsun’s room with a glass of water and some fresh pills. The other boy had dozed back off in his absence and Makki felt a pang of affection at the sight of Matsukawa snot-faced and sleepy. _He_ was the pathetic one for once, and Makki planned to savor every moment.

“Hey.” He nudged Mattsun’s shoulder with his elbow. “I’ve got some medicine for you.”

Mattsun slowly blinked open his eyes and smiled. “You’re all the medicine I need,” he murmured.

Makki was glad for the darkness of the room and the general state of delirium his friend was in because he was certain his cheeks had a healthy flush to match the roses in Mattsun’s. He shook it off like he wasn’t having a crisis and fell into his usual teasing tone. “Yeah. Doctors hate me.”

Mattsun’s brows pulled down in a pout. “How could anyone hate you?”

“Never mind,” Makki laughed. “Here.” He thrust the glass of water and the pills towards the taller boy, holding back a sigh of relief as Mattsun took them willingly. He drank the whole glass like a man stranded in a desert, and given how much he had slept, it probably wasn’t far from the truth. “Auntie says she’ll be home late. Do you want me to make something?”

“Mnmm. Not hungry.”

Given that he was still feverish, Makki didn’t press. “Ok. Do you want to take a bath? It might clear your head a little.”

Mattsun’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Tryin to take advantage of me when I’m down Hiro?”

“Hardly,” Makki snorted, ignoring the pounding in his chest. He was beginning to regret checking up on him if it meant being assaulted with a sleepy, flirty Matsukawa. “Come on. You stink. And you’ll feel better afterwards.”

Mattsun grumbled as he let Makki pull him out of bed and half-carry, half-drag him down the hall to the bathroom. They weren’t shy about bathing together—they’d done it enough growing up and after practices—so Makki’s heart was spared a little turmoil while they fell into a familiar routine.

Well, sort of familiar. Mattsun was too groggy to competently undress himself so Makki had to help him. He washed his hair for him, too, but he spent the whole time talking like it was just another post-practice shower. He filled him in on what he missed on the last day of classes and practice, including the part where everyone was convinced that he was dead and they were going to need a new middle blocker. Mattsun laughed at that without succumbing to another coughing fit. The steam of the bath had worked its magic.

Unfortunately, it also made him even more lethargic. Makki struggled to carry him back to his room draped over his back.

“Can I borrow your sweater?” he asked, drowsily.

Makki froze. “Why?”

“Smells like you,” he muttered into Makki’s neck. The rasp in his voice made Makki shiver.

Oh, he was in so deep. “Sure. If that’s what you want.” Never mind it probably wasn’t as clean as one of Mattsun’s own hanging in the closet, but how on earth could he say no?

Mattsun was lucky they were built the same despite being a little taller. He slipped Makki’s sweater over his head and sighed, humming a pleased note that tugged directly at Makki’s poor, frail heart, no thanks to the way it made a little whistle through his stuffy nose.

He cleared his throat. Mattsun gave him a small look of concern. He probably thought Makki was already coming down with his cold but Makki waved it away. “Do you need anything else before I let you get back to sleep?”

The frown on Mattsun’s face deepened. He pulled the comforter up to his ears. “Stay,” he grumbled into it, his eyes pleading. “Until I fall asleep?”

He knew he should go home, that the longer he stayed, the more likely he was to catch whatever this thing was, but Makki stared into dark watery eyes and found himself unable to form that single syllable. The opposite came out. “Sure.”

He smiled as he climbed up onto the bed with Matsukawa, pulling him into his lap to comb his fingers through the freshly washed curls. He kept up the motion long after Mattsun drifted back to sleep. He didn’t mind. It was probably too late for him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third prompt was "holidays" and I choose to believe that Makki ended up catching Mattun's cold and they spent the holidays curled up watching terrible movies together.


	7. Home Is Wherever You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hiro is overwhelmed with how blessed he is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Proposal

Takahiro drops his keys in the bowl at the door. “I’m home,” he calls into the tidy apartment as he removes his shoes and coat and slides his tired feet into his house slippers. They’re getting old, the soles worn so thin he may as well not wear anything at all.

Soft music plays through the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen, a jazzy tune that Hiro recognizes as one of Issei’s favorites. A smile spreads on his face, encompassing his whole body with warmth as he easily pictures the scene that awaits him in the kitchen.

His best friend, his boyfriend, the love of his life, hips swaying to the trumpets as he tosses vegetables in the wok. The rice cooker goes off and Hiro hovers in the doorway, watching as Issei saunters over to it to turn it off, humming to the crooning baritone echoing off the tiles. He hadn’t heard Hiro come in.

Hiro lived for moments like this. They had shared so much of their lives with one another, that it was nice to just observe the other being completely free. It was moments like this that Hiro cherished because he was the only one who got to see Issei like this.

In high school, their classmates had found him intimidating. To be fair, they’d found most of the volleyball starters intimidating. They were tall and imposing, and they won more games than they lost. (Not the ones that mattered, in the end, but that was in the past.)

If they had bothered to push past the athletic veneer to the substance beneath, they would have found a kind, funny, dependable boy with poor taste in shoes and a questionable affinity for freeform jazz music. Hiro had grown up knowing these things, had known Issei was larger than life even outside of his stature. He was quick with a quip, slow to anger, loyal to a fault. And he was beautiful. He had let his dark curls grow longer as he got older, but even as a boy Hiro had found them mesmerizing. The way they flipped up at the edges of his face, the nape of his neck, the softness he’d felt the first time he tangled his fingers in them. Even his eyebrows, which many people considered frightening, he’d only ever thought of them as endearing. Hiro loved the sharp planes of his face, the breadth of his shoulders, the slender lines of his arms and legs and the ways which they intersected with his in a perfect geometry.

Issei turns toward the door, sensing a familiar presence, and his eyes alight with adoration. “I didn’t hear you come in,” he says, as if this weren’t completely obvious to Hiro, who had spent years learning the ways in which he occupied a space and made room for others to do so.

Always one to keep the mood light, he sighs dramatically. “I’m gone at work all day and you forget all about me? I’m hurt.”

Issei is familiar with his antics and he doesn’t miss a beat. “Has it only been a day? I thought for sure I was finally free of your terrible jokes, but here we are.” The curve of his lips is soft, teasing, and there is no poison in the words he says.

“Your life would be so boring without my fantastic sense of humor.”

“It would certainly be quieter.”

They stare at one another across the small kitchen, Issei’s dark eyes glittering in challenge. Hiro breaks first, laughing into his fist. Issei winks at him before returning to preparing their evening meal. The saxophone plays on and Hiro has a thought. He pulls Issei from his station and wraps his arms around the taller man’s neck. Issei doesn’t protest as he slides his hands around Hiro’s waist, guiding him in small circles around the galley kitchen, foreheads pressed tenderly together. After a few bars of the serenading brass, Hiro tightens his fingers in those soft curls he adores and pulls Issei the last couple inches until their lips slot together like they were made to never be apart. Issei’s hands slide up his back, pulling him closer and Hiro could cry because it’s everything he’s ever wanted and he’s always had it and he doesn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve it but he never wants to let it go.

When they break apart, he holds Issei’s jaw in his hands, thumbs brushing gently over those sharp cheekbones. He melts under the fierce dark gaze upon him and his heart dances in his chest. The words come out before he even thinks them. “Marry me.”

Issei’s answering smile is wide and brimming with affection. “Okay.” He pulls Hiro into another kiss, this one firmer, more heated, filled with intent and desire. The music swells around them until a shrill alarm startles them out of their ardor.

The forgotten dinner is burning and they rush to turn off the stove and silence the smoke detector. Their laughter fills the ensuing silence and they decide to order out instead. Later, they tangle up on the couch with their take-out and a terrible movie. Hiro is home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're married, Your Honor.
> 
> Also Nicole made another [stunning piece](https://twitter.com/bb_owlet/status/1320516128700063744) for this fic. When I say I owe her my life I mean it. (ಥ﹏ಥ)♡

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the meal, MatsuHana Nation! Love you guys, mwah!
> 
> Don't forget to hit that kudos button, leave a comment or 3, or come check me out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/anininjaspaz)! Gonna be posting some spooky stories for Halloween week! See you again soon!


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